Haunted
by Scarletscript
Summary: Every night the girl is there. Every night, the man with the bullet in his head speaks to her. Catherine Moody will soon find out her past wasn't all that she believed it to be. Fettel/OC centric; a bit AU time-wise.
1. Chapter 1: Awakening

**A/N: Hello FFNers! Scarletscript here. I'm a bit new to this and I know the author's note isn't usually the most interesting thing about the story, but please bear with me! First of all, I'm hoping to make the canon characters as true to form in their actions as I can within the bounds of the story, so if things start to get a little wacky I'm depending on you, the reader, to call me out on it and let me know. I want to improve in my writing, so I'm completely open to whatever you guys have to say regarding this. So here comes the legal stuff. F.E.A.R., all of its characters, and all related products do NOT by any means belong to me, although it would be kind of cool if they did. So with that out of the way, on with the story!**

Chapter 1: Awakening

The dream was the same as it always was. 

I was stuck, rooted to one spot; unable to move any part of my body. It was cold; a mind numbing, bone chilling cold that was as paralyzing as any drug. The room I was in looked like a normal institutional type room devoid of furnishings, save for all the strangely foreboding markings on all its available surfaces. Then, an inexplicable wave of fear would hit me like a freight train, knocking the breath out of my chest in a rush. And that was when _he_ would come in.

It wasn't so much that I saw him; it was more like I felt his overwhelming presence. It pressed against me violently, insistently, before he even drew near. It was oppressive in every sense of the word. He would come closer and closer, his face shrouded in shadow and veiled with red smoke. With every step he took, my fear increased tenfold. A cold sweat would break out across my skin as the footsteps stopped inches away from me. 

I would feel hot breath fan across my face as he inspected me with intense scrutiny, his face hovering inches above mine. I would swear that he was amused by my fear, as a light, almost imperceptible chuckle rang through the room. By this point, I could make out more of his features. I always felt an odd sense of curiosity through the terror, to see who this man was, and what he looked like. I saw a bullet hole that drilled into the middle of his forehead and puckered slightly, settled right under a shock of black hair on a high, aristocratic forehead. A morbid impulse to touch it would run through my mind and be shaken off just as quickly. I saw a strong jaw line twisted slightly by a sinister smirk. But above all, I remember a set of keen eyes boring into my own that burned with some unknown emotion. Whenever I looked into those eyes, the smirk would grow until it became almost predatory in nature. He would lower his head until it was right next to my ear, almost as if he was telling me a particularly juicy secret. His lips would brush against my skin as he spoke words that I couldn't hear. 

As with all of the other dreams, I would suddenly feel an excruciating pain unlike anything I had experienced before in my life, like a fire roaring through my veins and tearing me apart from the inside. Images would flash before my eyes at a blinding speed, blurring together until my mind was completely overwhelmed. All of it would stop completely, only for me to find myself in an expanse of pure black. Deprived of all my senses, the feelings of panic would return.

That was until I would hear a song in the distance, so far away it could barely be heard. I would strain to catch the entire melody, as it was the only thing I had in that limbo. I clung to it desperately as it grew louder and louder, a hauntingly sad melody that tugged at my heart the same way each and every time I heard it. A little girl in a red dress would always be there, smiling at the corners of my vision as the song grew louder still. The lullaby would warp and twist until the sound was almost demonic in pitch. The girl was always there though, simply smiling like it was the most normal thing in the world. She was in the front of my vision at this point, her eyes glowing from within, lit from behind by a black flame. She would open her mouth, and I would awake with a start in my own room, panting heavily.  
>Just like I've woken up every night for the past week.<p>

People say that dreams may tell you things about yourself that you never knew, or that they carry predictions of the future.

People also say that that's a load of bullcrap designed to fool overly superstitious people.

Me? I think it may be a bit of both.

My name is Catherine Moody, and this is my story.

**A/N: So what do you think? I hope it's not too overdramatic, although I suppose it's hard not to delve into that a little bit with this kind of subject matter. You know, vengeful psychic ghosts and whatnot. ; P Oh, and this first chapter was in the first person, but the majority of the rest of the story is going to be in the third person. This was kind of supposed to be like a diary entry. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! More chapters on the way soon. Reviews are much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2: Plans

**A/N: Hello again FFNers! Back again with another chapter; gotta love summer and the time it gives you to write! Anyways, first of all I want to say thanks to my first two reviewers: Pickles and Nightshade07. To Pickles- Thanks so much! I hope the rest of the story lives up to your expectations. :) To Nightshade07- All will be revealed in time! Muahahaha.. *coughs* But yes, she is his daughter. I'm taking a bit of artistic license here and I thought it'd be good to delve into the personal lives of Armacham employees as a means for explaining some gaps in the plot. Also it seemed like fun. ;) (And I got chills when I heard it, too! Very ominous.) So without further ado, on with the story!**

**Chapter 2: Plans**

She awoke once again as she normally did, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. She took in her surroundings, reassuring herself that she was in her own bed and not in the surreal worlds of her nightmares. "I really should go to a psychologist about these things," Catherine muttered tiredly, eyes scrunched closed in frustration while rubbing her temples. It would be no small wonder if she had developed some kind of complex after all the stress she had been experiencing.

Ever since her father had passed away in what was dubbed a freak lab accident by Armacham Technologies, the girl had retreated away from much of her normal life, instead choosing to keep to herself and throw herself into her school work, forsaking all else in the process. As a result, Catherine became very isolated from the world around her, save for watching the news every once in a while. You could go so far as to say she was a ghost of her former self. A girl once active and full of passion for everything life had to offer had turned into a pale, listless shadow of who she once was. No one was left to help her in her family, and she pushed everyone else who could have helped her away.

_"I'm just now starting to pick up the pieces of my life, and slowly I'm putting them back together. But the dreams aren't helping things one bit. Lately it's been hard to concentrate on my senior thesis paper on the science of memories, not to mention the fact that I've been preoccupied with the subjects of my dreams when I should be thinking about more important matters in general, like how I'm going to pay the rent on time. But I can't help but wonder at why the dreams are so detailed when I've never had any like them; or who the man and the young girl are. Or, for that matter, why they're interested in me in the first place."_

She shook those thoughts from her head and slowly rose from the pile of twisted covers, tiredly running her hand through her tangled brown hair. She slowly padded over to her cramped bathroom and flipped the switch to on, flooding the room with florescent light. An exhausted face stared back at her as she looked in the mirror. Bruised purple circles bloomed under her slightly bloodshot eyes and her skin was almost translucent for want of more sunlight. All in all she was a sight to behold, and not in a good way.

She splashed freezing cold water on her face to shake herself from the post-sleep fog and to clear her mind of distracting thoughts. As she looked back in the mirror a second time, she could have sworn she saw a red, smoky glow in the corner of her eye. Catherine whipped around, heart beating wildly.

Nothing was there.

Or at least, nothing was there anymore.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and told herself to snap out of it. Obviously her imagination and the lack of sleep combined were making her hallucinate, or at the very least, be too jumpy.  
>"They're only dreams. It's all in your head Catherine," she said to herself. "You just have to get a nice hot shower, go to your classes, and everything will be fine. It'll take your mind off of things." She wasn't fooling herself too much here. There is always some haziness between dreams and reality when you first wake, especially when they're as uncannily realistic as these. With this reassuring thought in mind, Catherine got ready and headed out the door of her tiny apartment without any more ghostly apparitions interfering with the process.<p>

_**Fettel's POV**_

It really was fascinating how much the girl looked like her father.

He would know, too, seeing as he had been the one to kill him. Fettel chuckled darkly to himself from within the confines of his cell. Bill Moody really had given him a veritable treasure trove of valuable information. The fools at Armacham should have kept a better watch over some of their more… curious underlings. Regardless of their business policies, he had to admit that he was grateful for their lax security in this one instance.

"Hey, Casper! What's so fuckin' funny?" One of the guards jeered at him from outside the telesthetic limiter. Fettel's eyes narrowed, but he only smirked at the man.

"Oh, nothing in particular. I'm just imagining the look on your face when I get out of here and slowly tear every single bit of flesh from your pathetic excuse of a body. I'm sure you'll scream; I always love it when they beg for mercy."

The man visibly paled, but to his credit he attempted to put up a brave façade. He bared his teeth at Fettel in what could pass for a confident grin if you were mildly intoxicated and scoffed halfheartedly. "Keep dreaming, ghosty-boy. Maybe if you wish hard enough it'll come true."

Fettel just looked up from beneath his brows, a mad smile on his face. He let out a soft laugh, whispering under her breath, "Oh believe me, little man; I'm doing a lot more than just wishing."

Soon, he would make his move. Soon, the girl would be his ticket out of this hellhole.

****

**A/N: So what did you think? The pieces are slowly (but surely!) coming together. Reviews are much appreciated; they're like creativity fuel and they help me improve. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3: Confrontations

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Coming at you with another dream sequence in the first person. With these, I'm trying to slowly bring in the connection between Fettel and Catherine; I can't spoil the surprise and let all the details out at once. ;) Many thanks again to my reviewers, Pickles (always a pleasure), DestinyIntertwined, and Muldoon85. You guys are awesome! Oh, and I've realized that my chapters are a bit on the short side, so I'll be forsaking a bit of update time for longer (and hopefully better quality) chapters.**

Chapter 3: Confrontations

Tonight the dream was different. Instead of starting out rooted to the spot, I could move freely. The numbing cold was still present, but it was less overpowering than it was in the previous dreams. I rubbed my arms nervously, eyes darting from side to side. Chills wracked my body, not just from the frigid temperature, but from fear as well. I couldn't necessarily explain why I felt that way, but it was a primal instinct that shouted at me from the furthest reaches of my brain to get the hell away from this place. Since this was impossible, I thought I'd at least take the time to survey my surroundings in a little more detail in case it could come in handy later. In all the dreams before, I had been too focused on the man covered in shadows to really understand where I was being held.

There was a thick industrial metal door right behind where I was standing; conveniently locked from the outside, naturally. The room was dimly lit; the faint orange glow from the cheap overhead lights just barely reached the furthest corners. There seemed to be an observation window halfway up the wall opposite of the door, although it was blacked out from the inside. The dingy linoleum floor stuck lightly to my bare feet as I slowly made my way through the space. I could make out the outline of a basic metal-wrought bed, pushed against the wall near the door. I ran my hand ponderingly over the sheets of the bed, marveling at the scratchy texture. I was only dreaming, wasn't I? How was it that I could _feel_ things in such detail?

Shrugging that thought away in favor of more exploration, I crouched down to look under the bed, sighing as I found nothing more than motes of dust floating around aimlessly. Pushing myself up from the floor, I sat dejectedly on the bed. The mattress springs complained loudly in response and I cringed at the noise. A cursory sweep of the room told me that any further searches would turn up next to no interesting discoveries. The place was designed to be boring, and it was definitely doing its job. I rested my chin in my hands, prepared to wait.

This time when I sensed the man's presence it wasn't as crushing as it once was. It was almost as if he was holding it back to a degree. Not enough to let me stay comfortable, but certainly enough to allow me to breathe. Still, the aura that radiated from him was heavy and vaguely threatening. I got the feeling he didn't want me to feel at ease in any way, shape, or form. Almost as if he knew he was in charge and wasn't afraid to show it.

I was immediately on guard.

What I wasn't expecting was for him to materialize directly in front of me without warning.

"OH MOTHER F—"I screamed as I desperately pushed myself backwards, hands and feet clumsily scrabbling at the sheets to gain traction. My head hit the wall behind me with a loud and sickening _thunk_, and I doubled over clutching it, breathing heavily. All the while, I was keeping a narrowed eye on the man in front of me. I was mad, to say the least. Fueling my anger was the fact that he seemed to find my failed escape attempt highly amusing.

"Having trouble down there?" the man smirked. His arms were loosely crossed across his black-jacketed chest; and his posture indicated that he was far too satisfied with himself for someone who had possibly just caused a concussion.

"Oh believe me; I was doing just _fine_ until you showed up. What kind of entrance was that, anyways? You should know it's rude not to knock," I spit out. The building  
>rage was making me bold. Words I would normally never say poured out of my mouth with venomous ease. I figured this phantom was only a manifestation of my<br>subconscious, so why not go on the attack? It wasn't like anything I said in this dream would affect anything outside of my head. Or so I thought.

"Oh _forgive_ me," his words dripped with sarcasm "Next time I'll be sure to be more… _accommodating_ to your tastes."

Something told me he had no honest intentions of doing so.

"Now," he said while leaning forward, causing me to press further against the wall behind, "do you have any idea why you're here?"

"I would suppose it has something to do with the large amounts of stress I've been experiencing lately, what with my sudden inability to pay my bills as well as the  
>thesis papers I have due," I sniffed dismissively.<p>

"Hmm… and you don't _suppose _that any of this has to do with the death of your father?" The man leaned further towards me, arms caging me into one spot; his face stretched into a leer at this point.

I completely forgot about his disturbingly close proximity and inhaled sharply. Why was my subconscious suddenly playing psychologist? And hell, when did my  
>subconscious get so downright <em>creepy?<em> "_Maybe there is more going on than you're letting yourself see,"_ a little voice chimed from the corner of my mind.

Regardless of the situation, I decided to play along with the phantom.

"Okay, so maybe my only remaining family member dying has put a _bit_ of a strain on my life. What business of yours is that?" I snapped.

The man chuckled, tilting back slightly but still giving me no room to move. On his face was a mirthless smile. "Oh my _dear_, you really have _no_ idea, do you?" His voice  
>practically oozed condescension. "You see, your business became my business the moment your father stuck those nosy little hands of his into affairs that he had taken<br>far too lightly."

That was the last straw for me. This was getting way too personal, not to mention bizarre.

In a split second, I went from being pressed against the wall behind me to getting right up in the man's face.

I was nearly spitting I was so upset.

"Listen up, whoever or whatever the hell you are," I hissed. "_One_; I have no idea what you're talking about. _Two_; Stay. Out. Of. My. Head." I poked his chest violently for emphasis with each word. A chest that I didn't quite notice was rumbling with a low, menacing growl. I should've taken the hint and quit while I was ahead, but my blind fury made me press onward.

"I never asked for you to come in here, messing up my sleep patterns and poking around at wounds that haven't completely healed yet. So, in short I'd appreciate it if you'd kindly _piss off_!" I practically shouted the last words at him. It didn't even register in my mind that the man in front of me had started to glow red and was outright glaring down at me. I only snapped out of my rage-induced haze when I felt the sickening pressure from his aura hit me like a ton of bricks.

There was no denying it.

He was pissed, and he wasn't holding back anymore.

He abruptly stood up, and at the same moment a wave of crimson energy spread out of him and sent me flying backwards into the wall. The back of my skull once again connected with the wall and I felt my body slowly going limp as the corners of my vision slowly faded

The last thing I saw before everything went to black was the man turning away, muttering angrily and shaking his head. I only caught a bit of what he was saying, but it was enough to shock me to the core.

Those words were "… just like her father."

**A/N: AND THE PLOT THICKENS! D So what do you think? Please let me know if you like the direction the story is going in. I'm trying to keep things realistic right now. Obviously these two are not going to like each other at all at the get-go. So it'll be a clash of wills for a bit. ;) In the next chapter, you'll see Fettel's opinions on the events of this meeting. Hope you enjoyed it! **


	4. Chapter 4: Realizations

**A/N: Hello once again everyone! First of all I want to say thanks to my reviewers. To Pickles: I'm glad you like where the story is going! I had a ton of fun writing that scene. This girl's got no idea what she's getting into. To morbid ninja: Oh man. Thanks so much! (I started reading Fear Existence and it's amazing. ) To DestinyIntertwined: Yup, Catherine's got a bit of a temper. It's going to get her into trouble a fair amount. ;) Glad you liked it! To Grievousorvenom, xxxjetgirlxxx, and thelizfantasy09: Thanks so much, guys! To Saahren: Glad to hear I'm keeping him in character. I'm terrified of making him like a giggling schoolgirl or something equally strange. :) So for this chapter, we get Fettel's opinions on the meeting, and Catherine starts to come to terms with what happened. Be warned; this chapter is rather angsty.  
><strong>

Chapter 4: Realizations 

Fettel awoke from his trance-like state on the same uncomfortable mattress that he had cornered that stubborn girl on. There was one main difference; that being that this bed was actually in a physical state of existence, while the other was simply an object of his mental creation. 

He slowly came to, rising to a sitting position as the events of the first lucid contact came back to him. Needless to say, he was not happy with the results. This Catherine was far too headstrong for her own good. Things were definitely not going according to plan.

Hands clenched tightly around the sheets, Fettel growled lowly in frustration, struggling to maintain his composure. He was by no means completely powerless in the telesthetic limiter, but if he let his energies run unchecked not enough damage would be done to allow him to escape and security would be increased. He didn't want to notify his captors that he was capable of much more than they could ever imagine. More importantly though, he didn't want them to know that he could still reach out to minds that he had some connection with, so long as they didn't try to push him out. "Much like my _dear _brother has been doing…" he mused crossly.

One such mind he had happened upon by a very fortunate twist of fate. But now, maddening as it seemed, he was back at square one with the girl. After trying for months to come into contact with her, he had thought he was making some headway when he could finally get into her dreams, if only through vague images. When he finally had the opportunity to speak with her last night, he thought that it was a sign that things were going to take a turn for the better; that she was ready to make contact.

"I could have sworn that she would've been more receptive to my presence in her mind… instead of being able to subtly manipulate her emotions in that vulnerable kind of dream state, she only felt what would be considered a natural bodily response to an invader; anger… and fear," Fettel thought to himself as he got up from his bed and began unhurriedly pacing around the room. "_And not only that,"_ a little voice nagged at him, "_but you lost control of yourself in there, too. All of your careful planning went out the window the minute you stepped into her mind when she was partially aware of what was going on. You felt it, didn't you? She was unconsciously trying to push you out, and she wasn't weak about it either. And it threw you. It made you… angry, even." _He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Fettel knew the last thing he needed with all the factors involved in his scheme was himself as an enemy. With that thought running through his head, he slowly began to formulate another plan of action.

If he was going to get out of this cell and get the revenge he craved so much, he was going to have to take a _very_ different approach with the girl. Fettel smirked as he stopped pacing in the middle of the room.

Next time, things would be done on _his_ terms, and his alone.

* * *

><p>Hundreds of miles away, Catherine Moody was just waking up. The first thing she felt upon opening her eyes was a dull, throbbing pain centered at the back of her skull. She groaned, clutching it with one hand while pushing herself up with the other. Bleary-eyed, she tried to figure out why she felt so awful.<p>

Almost instantly, it all came back to her in a heady rush of memory. Catherine's eyes shot open, suddenly wide awake. She sucked in a quick gasp of air and held it, almost as if in her shock she had forgotten how to breathe.

"Oh God, there's no way… nononono…." She paused here to catch her breath; she was starting to hyperventilate. "I must be going crazy... I probably just bumped my head on something in the middle of the night… oh God, who am I kidding? _Shit_, this is completely and utterly _insane_..." She rocked back and forth almost imperceptibly, trying to come to grips with what could only be described as a textbook paranormal encounter. Tears started gathering at the corners of her eyes and her chin began to quiver uncontrollably. She bit her lip hard, ignoring the metallic tang that entered her mouth.

What did it all mean? Did her father really have something to do with the man in the dream? She choked back a sob at this thought.

She didn't like to think about her father too much anymore, if at all.

And then this man, this… _thing_, had come along and reopened painful wounds.

Catherine and her father weren't too close towards the end of his life. The senior Moody had retreated away from his personal life much like Catherine was doing now, but for reasons that were unfathomable to her. He would spend nearly all of his waking hours at work, only telling her when she got around to calling that "Your Dad's about to discover something big, sweetheart; you'll see."

Only she never did see.

She had returned from her classes one day to find a skinny white envelope tucked under the mat in front of her apartment. Catherine had remembered feeling rather perplexed; normally mail would arrive at the drop-off station downstairs. Mentally shrugging, she had picked up the envelope and ripped it open with her pointer finger, cursing softly when it gave her a papercut. Shaking one hand, she awkwardly wiggled what appeared to be a short letter out of the torn envelope.

Little did she know that the first line of that letter would change her life as she knew it.

"_Dear Ms. Moody,"_ the letter had begun.

"_We sincerely regret to inform you that there has been an accident at the water treatment plant your father worked at… while we here at Armacham Technology Companies pride ourselves on a safe and reliable workplace, sometimes anomalies do occur…"  
><em>

Catherine's mind had barely even registered half the superficial condolences and the words meant to placate a now grieving family member. Her eyes darted frantically across the letter, hoping with every fiber of her being that there had been some kind of mix up and it was someone else who was meant to get this letter. Anyone else.

Just not her.

It couldn't have been his time yet.

She hadn't even had time to say goodbye to him.

Her hands had started shaking violently as salt water soaked the now useless paper. She had sunk to her knees in the hallway in front of her apartment, clutching the remains of the letter to her chest. She shook silently, her body wracked with sobs. The only noise that came out of her was a strangled wheeze as she struggled to get a breath.

Her chest had felt like it was being crushed. Tears had leaked from closed eyes as her face twisted into a grimace. She had curled in on herself, wishing with every fiber of her being that this was just a bad dream and that she would wake up any minute safe and sound in her own bed. A neighbor from down the hall walked by; looked down at her confusedly, but still hurriedly continued on their way.

"Let them look," she had thought bitterly. "Let everyone come and stare. As if I could even give a damn anymore."

In that moment she had wanted nothing more than to just disappear from the face of the earth. She had remained in that hallway for what seemed like an eternity, completely drained of any physical or emotional strength. It was only when the landlord came by to warn her that she was "disturbing the neighbors and that she'd have to for the love of God, take it inside" that she stumbled limply into her apartment, only to remain in her bed for the majority of two weeks.

She had just been too exhausted to deal with life.

Catherine took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. Now was definitely not the time to dredge up her worst memories. For what it was worth, Catherine wasn't one to dwell on the past.

But what does one do when the past comes back to haunt you on its own? 

**A/N: There you have it! Angsty moping is out of the way for now; next time we've got some angry Fettel in his element. As always, your reviews keep me on track, plus I'd love to hear from you all. Many thanks! **


	5. Chapter 5: Interrogation

**A/N: Hello again! I want to say thanks very much to all my reviewers for the last chapter. To Alardem: You bring up a very good point here; I didn't really consider the implications of that, but it would be rather hard to cover that up! For the sake of keeping the focus on certain points of the story and preventing things from getting too complicated, I'm just going to have to ask you all to suspend your disbelief and pretend that Armacham has some friends very high up in the media industry who kept things relatively quiet. ;) Thanks very much for pointing this out, though. If I can, I'll try to go back later and tweak things a bit so it's more credible. To Saahren: Yes, there is going to be a connection between the dreams and reality. I thought this might make the stakes a little bit higher between the two. To Clumsy Clouds: I'm really glad you enjoyed it! I've actually gotten into the series pretty recently as well. :) **

**Also, while I know it's probably rather cheesy to intersperse song lyrics through a fic, I found something that fit the situation here rather well. The music for this chapter is "Howl" by Florence + the Machine. Hope you guys like it!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5: Interrogation<span>

When Catherine got home from her graveyard shift at the nearby convenience store, she immediately dumped a bag of energy drinks and other caffeine associated products out onto her ratty couch. If that man wouldn't stop haunting her dreams, she would just avoid him completely. The logical part of her brain whispered that she would have to sleep eventually, but she drowned it out with the clack and hiss that accompanied the opening of a Monster. Eagerly, she downed the contents of the can, ignoring the taste. She then grabbed a bag of chips and began to wander around her cramped living room, trying to find something to occupy her time. Her eyes scanned the room and settled on her music player where her iPod was docked.

She slowly padded over to it, determined to find a song to take her away to a place in her mind where ghosts of the past didn't torment her in her dreams; where things were simpler. She knelt down to the machine at eye level and selected shuffle. The volume was turned up high, and she soon lost herself in a wave of sound. Closing her eyes and smiling to herself for the first time in a while, she swayed slightly from side to side as one of her favorite songs came on. "This has to be a good sign," she thought. Even though she knew that was a silly way of thinking, she was willing to take any little blessing as an omen that things were going to get better. She sat down on the couch, picked up the nearest magazine from a large pile on the coffee table, and soon lost track of time.

When a particularly loud song came on, Catherine realized that she had been lightly dozing off; trapped between a state of wakefulness and sleep and achieving neither very successfully. She checked the time on her phone: "4:30 a.m.", the screen read in glowing block numbers. It had already been two hours since she got home, and she had been up since 6 a.m. the past morning. As much as she hated to admit it, she was fading fast.

"These energy drinks aren't helping at all…" Catherine mumbled to herself tiredly as she tried to focus her eyes and keep the world around her from blurring. She began to slump forwards, not knowing that she had already lost the battle to stay awake. As she languidly slipped into sleep, the faint strains of a song wound themselves into her mind.

**"_If you could only see the beast you've made of me, __  
><em>_I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free."  
><em>**

The black of her shut eyelids eventually yielded to the cell from the night before. She had somewhat expected this, although she couldn't say that she was happy to be there. Standing in the middle of the room, she let out a frustrated groan and stamped her foot rather petulantly. She felt like a child for doing this, but damn it all, she was sick and tired of this place.

"Well, well, well … it took you long enough to get here," a low voice seemed to slither out from the shadows at the farthest edges of the room. A man's partially hidden figure soon accompanied it, but it was no surprise to Catherine whose voice it was.

"Oh, not _you_ again. I was really hoping you would have better things to do with your time than harassing me." Catherine crossed her arms tightly across her chest and glared over at where she guessed the man's face was.

Fettel smirked. It really was amusing how she thought that she was in the slightest way threatening, and to him, of all people. But to be fair, she didn't have any idea who she was dealing with.

Well, not yet, at least.

He shifted his weight slightly, making sure that the leg with the knife strapped to it made its way into the dim orange light. Fettel waited to see the girl's reaction to this; he was sure that she would see it, and her reaction would determine his exact course of action for the remainder of her time here.

He wasn't disappointed in what he saw. While the Moody girl was trying to hide her fear, Fettel could practically smell it in the stale cold air around them. He focused on her neck, noting that her pulse was increasing and that a small but still obvious gulp was making its way down her throat. He quickly assessed that she was the type to mask her anxiety with anger. Fettel outright grinned at this point, his brows shadowing his eyes dangerously.

He was going to have fun with this one.

**"_Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart, __  
><em>_drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart."  
><em>**

He stepped into the light completely now, letting the full force of his aura drift lazily around the room. Fettel stopped directly in front of the girl, enjoying how he towered over her. Staring down at her, cruel ice blue met enraged hazel as they began a silent war that would soon escalate. To where, neither of them knew exactly.

But of one thing, Fettel was sure. It was only a matter of time before the girl would be playing right into his hands.

He paused, making sure to lean towards her before he spoke. It was too much fun watching her squirm, and far too easy at that.

"Sadly, I don't. You'll just have to bear with me for however long this will take," he said, taking another step towards her.

Catherine took a defensive step back, matching his pace.

"And what exactly is the '_this'_ that you're referring to?" she said, the apprehension breaking through her voice. She continued moving backwards.

"Ah, ah, ah…" Fettel said, stalking unhurriedly towards her, wagging his finger in front of her retreating face. "_You're_ not in any position to be asking questions. That would be my job, my dear." His voice had no soothing effect on Catherine whatsoever. In fact, the syrupy tone he was taking with her only magnified the darker undertones that were present in his speech. The term 'a wolf in sheep's clothing' fleetingly ran through her mind, only to be pushed aside as panic started to set in. This man was by no means a sheep; not even on the surface.

**"_My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in; __  
><em>_you are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl."  
><em>**

Catherine soon felt the unyielding stone of the wall up against her back. Sweat beaded across her skin, much of it exposed to the air in her gym shorts and tank. She shivered, cursing herself for doing so. She didn't need to encourage the man's intimidation even further.

Unluckily for her, that's exactly what she was doing. Fettel was reveling in her discomfort, slowly drinking in her fear like a fine wine. His hands were positioned on either side of the girl, effectively caging her in with his body. He was less than a foot away from her now, his head dipping down towards her neck. Catherine tensed up, the tendons in her neck bulging as she strained to distance herself from the man looming in front of her. Her widened eyes nervously followed the man's head in its descent as her body began shaking uncontrollably.

**"_Now there's no holding back, I'm making to attack__  
><em>_My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out."  
><em>**

Fettel had to admit, this was exceedingly enjoyable for him. He leaned in closer now, inhaling deeply near the crook of the girl's neck, relishing the way that the tremors radiated violently through her small frame. And it was all because of him. He was rather surprised that it was this easy to torment her, although he couldn't say he was displeased with the results. To top it all off, she smelled delicious, if he was going to be completely honest with himself. He wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her tender skin and taste all of her… With a jolt, he realized that he was centimeters away from doing just that. He mentally scolded himself for losing control at a time like this. _He_ was the one that was in charge here, not this wisp of a girl with an attitude problem. _"And a wonderful scent…" _his treacherous mind chimed in.

**"_Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins, __  
><em>_I want to find you tear out all your tenderness."  
><em>**

Catherine was at a loss for words. What in the _hell_ was this man doing? He was practically salivating at her throat like a starving animal. But what could she do? Not much, in this position. She wasn't one to simply give up when things got tough, but in this case she knew that she was powerless at the moment. That didn't mean that she would stop looking for an opening though. She flinched sharply as the man in front of her roughly grabbed her arms and brought his face up to hers. The look in his eyes terrified her. Those eyes burned with a hunger that shook her to the core. She had never seen such a look in the eyes of a human being before… It was a look that said this man would _devour_ her if given the chance.

**"_Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, __  
><em>_Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters."  
><em>**

"So… _Catherine_…" his voice sent chills up and down her spine. "What do you remember of your past?"

She spluttered confusedly. "W-what do you mean by that? What does that have to do with anyth-" She was quickly cut off as a large hand wound its way into her hair and jerked it back forcefully. She let out a surprised yelp as her neck was left completely exposed. She had never felt as vulnerable in her life as she did now.

"I will ask you again, and I want nothing short of a direct answer this time." His voice carried an unspoken threat of what would happen if she didn't give it to him. "What do you remember about your past?" Fettel growled. He was trying to get somewhere with this. What was frustrating was that the girl wouldn't take the bait.

A drop of sweat snaked its way along her jugular and across the softly angled planes of her collarbone, dropping down beneath the scooped neckline of her tank top. Fettel swallowed lightly, trying not to think about where it went after that. What was with him? It wasn't like him to become even the slightest bit physically attracted to his… _subjects_. It was simply a game to him. He was just a tad out of practice, was all that this was.

**"_The fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress; __  
><em>_until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest."  
><em>**

Her words snapped him out of his reverie, drawing him back into the interrogation that was taking place.

"… don't remember much at all, really." She was saying in a trembling voice. "There are flashes of memory here and there; a playground at the elementary school I used to go to, moments in my classrooms; sometimes my… parents." She choked out this last part as if it were painful even to speak of it.

A weak spot.

Fettel filed this away for future reference.

"And do you think that there may be a reason for these... gaps in your memory?" he said, slowly reaching for the knife on his leg with his free hand, not taking his eyes off of hers. She started to shake even more, her teeth starting to clack together; hating herself a bit as tears started to leak from her eyes.

"I d.. don't know.. Please.. W-what are you going to do with t-that?" she gasped out.

"Now now, no need to make a scene. I simply want to make sure you're telling the truth," Fettel murmured smoothly, his eyes shifting from hers down to the supple flesh between her neck and her shoulder. How easy it would be to take a bite… but no. He needed her in one piece for what he had planned.

**"_The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, _**

**_I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'd ground."_**

Gripping the blade in deft fingers, he drew it up and skillfully cut a gash in her skin. She sucked in her breath harshly, the pain of the wound overshadowed by the dread of what was to come.

All of her coherent thoughts flew from her head when she felt a pair of ice cold lips press themselves to the bleeding wound. Her eyes shot open even wider, and a whimper slipped out of her mouth.

**"_A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night,_**

**_may still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright._**_**"**_

Fettel closed his eyes, losing himself in the exhilarating taste that the rush of blood leaking from the wound brought. It tasted like confusion on the surface, with a strong current of rage flowing underneath. He dug in a little with his teeth, the girl's feeble struggling only making him want to dig deeper. But he had to restrain himself to a degree; he couldn't have her damaged too much. Still, he had to figure out whether or not she was correct in her recollections of her childhood. He had a theory, and this was the best way to confirm it.

As the metallic taste of blood coated his tongue, he continued searching through her memories. From age 8 onward, the girl's memories were solid and clear. Normal, really. There wasn't much about her that was that remarkable. But it was before then that intrigued him. That area of her mind was blurry, almost as if someone had tried to wipe it clean. But they had done a sloppy job of it. To someone like him, it was relatively easy to dig up these carefully buried secrets. All he needed was a little more time…

What he wasn't planning on was for the girl to swiftly shake herself from his grip and launch herself forward with a primal scream to sink her teeth deep into the meat of his neck.  
>Fettel dropped his knife, crying out angrily as they both fell thrashing to the floor of the cell, the girl's hands pushing down on his shoulders. His head hit the ground with a deafening crack, rendering him motionless.<p>

Blood filled Catherine's mouth, and she tried hard not to gag at the taste. She was fighting for her life now; there was no room to be squeamish. She shut her eyes tightly, tears and sweat mingling with blood on the man's skin.

**"_If you could only see the beast you've made of me,_**

_**I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free"**_

She was shocked that as she closed her eyes, she started hearing muffled voices. No one else was in the room. She raised her head to look around, blood dripping down her chin in thick rivulets; noticing with no little satisfaction that the man in front of her was incapacitated. Something told her that wouldn't last for long at all.

But strangely enough, the voices had stopped as she pulled away from the wound at the man's neck. Hesitantly, she brought her mouth back down to it, utterly disgusted with herself. But maybe there was something to what this man was doing… something about truth and memories. If she wanted to have a chance surviving against this man, she was going to have to level the playing field.

**"_The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound; __  
><em>**_**I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallow'd ground."**  
><em>

Her eyes shot open as a torrent of memories that weren't her own flooded her consciousness. The first words she heard filled her with dread, but she was already in and had no intentions of backing out now.

"He deserved to die. They _all _deserve to die."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Phew! That was the longest chapter I've ever written at approximately 5 and a half pages. So things are getting heated between the two. Like always, your feedback is much appreciated. :) Thanks everyone!**


	6. Chapter 6: Investigation

**A/N: Hey again guys! Thanks a ton to all my reviewers from the last chapter, you guys motivate me to keep writing even when it seems difficult. :) To DestinyIntertwined: I didn't really plan on having her bite him; it just kind of popped out onto the page! But it worked with what I was planning so I figured "What the hey." xD Oh, and I'm going to post more specific responses to the reviews in a bit; but for now I'm just going to put the chapter out there.**

**There a very small amount of what you could call citrus in this chapter, just as a warning. I don't see Fettel as being completely above those kinds of impulses; I just think he's much better at controlling them. Also I'm wondering if I should change the story's rating to M due to the violence, language, etc. I would appreciate your honest opinions on this; I don't want to scar anyone too much. ;)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: Investigation <p>

Pressure.

That was the first thing Fettel felt as he slowly came back into consciousness. Pressure on his chest, pressure on his neck.

Pressure on his hips, he noticed somewhat uncomfortably.

He gradually began to recall the events before his fall, realizing with growing frustration what he had allowed to happen. By no means should he have let his guard down in front of the girl.

He had certainly underestimated her more violent tendencies, and to his detriment.

But what was she doing now? His curiosity overrode his desire to reassert his dominance of the situation for the time being, and so he remained lying limply on the ground, only opening one of his eyes a sliver so as to see what exactly the woman was still doing here. What he would find next would shock him; something that by now was an extremely rare occurrence in his existence.

The Moody girl was straddling his waist, her hands clenched and pulling at the collar of his jacket and her head buried in the exposed junction between his shoulder and his neck. It struck him how intimate the pose might've seemed to the casual observer.

That is, if the two of them weren't covered in blood.

Fettel's initial thought was that the girl must've passed out from the sight of all the mangled flesh. But his real surprise came about when he saw she was very much awake.

Awake, and noticeably preoccupied with lapping at the crimson fluid still flowing from his neck.

He was strangely amused by the sight. He was almost positive that the girl wouldn't be able to glean too much information from him this way, if any.

"But still…" he thought to himself, "She's certainly one of my more… _intriguing _specimens."

It was at this moment that Catherine shifted roughly on his hips, and Fettel stifled a low groan, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the sensation. Under no circumstances would he let something as base and meaningless as physical arousal ruin his plans.

He concentrated on the dulling pain in his neck and cheek, until he soon realized that being discovered as awake was the least of his problems.

He could actually _feel_ the girl in his psyche, not just acting as a casual observer, but actively probing at thoughts and memories. True, it was in a clumsy manner; not unlike a toddler wobbling around and bumping into things at random. But the fact remained that she was searching rather successfully through his mind.

And that was something he couldn't allow at all.

Fettel swiftly shot up and seized Catherine's shoulders in his hands, forcefully shoving her whole body away from his and down onto the floor. He then pinned her legs down with his knees and pushed down on her forearms, effectively keeping her from attempting any other possibly damaging acts.

Surprisingly, the girl didn't put up any fight this time. In fact, she simply looked up at him with a grief-stricken expression on her face that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

And to top it all off, there was _pity_ in her eyes.

"What a strange juxtaposition," he thought offhandedly to himself. "Such a tender expression on a face covered with the evidence of such violence."

But more than being confused by this new turn of events, he was upset. No, he was furious.

Here he was, a being of power far beyond the humble imaginings of mankind, and this woman was _pitying_ him! He barely reigned in the urge to snarl at her, and instead transferred the anger into his grip on her arms.

She cringed a little underneath him, but there was no more reaction than that. This frustrated him even further. How had things slipped so far out of his control? He had had every advantage at his disposal, and then this insolent girl had the nerve to throw everything off of its natural course. Things had to change, and soon.

Luckily improvisation was one of his strong points, he thought with a menacing smile. There were only so many tricks that girl could pull, and instinct told him she was just about out of them.

* * *

><p>She had delved into the recesses of his mind expecting to have a glimpse into hell.<p>

She had not been prepared for what she witnessed in the short time she was there. It was worse; so much worse than anything she could've imagined.

Everything was a little bit vague as she had brought her mouth to his neck the second time, images and sounds rushing past her at such a speed that she quickly became disoriented. It was as if she had been swallowed up by a roaring flood and she was quickly being pulled under. If she had felt helpless before in the man's grip, she felt even more powerless in his head.

She struggled to breathe, drowning in the overwhelming stream of thoughts and emotions, many of them negative and tinged with madness. She tried to compose herself and focus on individual pieces in the flow; wondering how on earth the man made it look so easy.

"_The man_"… that term felt inadequate to Catherine now. She was reading his mind, for crying out loud.

"Paxton…"

She started as a distinct murmur separated itself from the surrounding din.

"Paxton Fettel."

The voice was genderless and quiet among the dull roar swirling around her, but somehow the name pierced through the noise and arrived clearly in her own mind. It seemed to fit him perfectly. She clung to that name, focusing on it; hoping that it would anchor her to certain stable points in the torrent of memory. Sure enough, she found herself drifting slowly towards an island of clarity in the whirling sea of chaos that was Fettel's mind. Anxiously, she paused right on the edge of the recollection.

Did she really want to see what this man's life was like? Would it even help her, or would it just serve to unsettle her even further?

Steeling herself, Catherine awkwardly pushed her consciousness into the memory, sucking in a breath as she abruptly found herself in the middle of what seemed to be a hospital room. White walls, an abundance of pitiless metal instruments, and the overpoweringly sterile scent of antiseptic all attested to that.

All of a sudden, there was a commotion just outside, but from where she was positioned in the room Catherine couldn't make out exactly what was going on. There were several muffled voices; one higher pitched and loud, and some lower, hushed and urgent ones. Without warning, the door was shoved open and several men in lab coats rushed in, dragging what seemed to be a young boy around the age of 10. The boy was screaming and writhing around like a wild animal in the unwavering grip of the doctors, completely at their mercy. He fought regardless, and Catherine couldn't help but root for him a little.

She moved closer, knowing instinctively that in this memory she would go unnoticed. Two of the doctors had managed to plunge a large needle into the boy's bicep through the thick white fabric of his jumpsuit. Still, he continued thrashing, baring his teeth and snapping at any man who was unwise enough to come within reach of his mouth. While he put up a valiant effort, the boy's resolve started to flag when another doctor managed to slip behind him and jab another needle into the skin of his neck. Soon the boy's eyes began to roll back into his head, and the men wasted no time in hoisting him up onto one of the cold metal tables in the middle of the room.

"Unnatural little fucker, isn't he? It took two adult doses of tranquilizer to put him down." One of the doctors muttered, quickly strapping on a paper face mask and hair cover, as well as a pair of rubber gloves. The tone in his voice troubled Catherine: instead of being professional and collected, it was barely concealing what seemed to be resentment. She was unable to look away as the doctors tied the boy down with restraints and inserted catheters into his arms, covering his face with a mask that fed an unknown gas into his lungs. To her side, Catherine saw a scalpel begin its agonizingly slow descent towards the right side of the boy's head. She averted her eyes, turning her head to the side; noticing that one of the men had made his way over to a table where what seemed to be a large metal chip was resting. It gleamed cruelly in the fluorescent light, its real purpose unknown yet sinister all the same. She looked towards the boy, whose eyes were squeezed tightly shut. A lone tear made its way down his cheek as he obviously struggled to keep his face devoid of his inner turmoil. With a jolt, she realized that the boy was only under local anesthesia.

He was fully aware of everything that was going on, and was unable to do anything about it.

An aching sensation began to grow within her chest. Was it pity? Sadness, even? Her heart reached out to this child who was forced into circumstances far outside of his own control. This was far too much for her to handle; the information she was getting here was doing more harm than good and she had to remedy that. Just as she was about to attempt to leave the scene before her, the boy's head turned to face her and his hand shot out to grab hers.

"Please," he whispered in a scratchy voice, "don't leave." His small fingers brushed against Catherine's softly. The boy's clear blue eyes stared desperately up into hers. "Please… _Help me_." His voice wavered and cracked, betraying the fear that he was trying so hard to hide. Blood began to leak in thin streams from the side of his head where the doctor was beginning the implant surgery.

Startled, Catherine tried to gently pull her arm away from the child on the table. This was only a memory, wasn't it? Why were the figments of Fettel's mind acting as if she was an active part of it? She swallowed roughly and closed her eyes, trying to get rid of the lump that was forming in her throat. What could she do here anyway? It was only a piece of Fettel's past, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

"But… you can always change the future," her inner voice nagged at her.

As she wrested her hand away from his, the memory shattered violently around her, and she once found herself whisked into the maelstrom of thought. Now the predominant emotion she felt around her was dark... she couldn't put her finger on it, but it made her feel sick in the very pit of her stomach. This time, instead of looking for a memory the current dragged her into one. She fell into it, landing none too gently on her knees in a darkened room. She looked up, straight into the barrel of a gun. The owner's face was shrouded from her view. A shaking finger clenched on the trigger, and with a bang, the whole scene faded to white.

Catherine soon realized that she was currently being pinned to the ground by the same man whose head she had been snooping around in.

Catherine looked up into his eyes and saw only anger. He knew what she had done, and he wasn't the least bit happy about it.

The man grinned a little now; both of them knowing that she was out of tricks.

"Now… how about we begin where we left off, hmm?" Fettel said with a manic smile, flicking his knife up to Catherine's face. 

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And that's it for now! Guh, that chapter was really hard to write for whatever reason. Anyways, thanks for reading! PS- Reviews keep me on track with the characters and whatnot; any feedback is greatly appreciated. Don't be afraid to leave one, I promise I don't bite. ;D **


	7. Chapter 7: Instigation

**A/N: Okay, here's the next chapter. It's a bit citrusy, and as such this fic will be up-rated to M in the near future. I hope that I'm keeping people in character; it's a little weird for me to write these kinds of scenes for Fettel because he doesn't really seem like the type. xD Hopefully this works though; it is definitely pertinent to the plot and not entirely gratuitous. Thanks very much to DestinyIntertwined, Saahren, Pickles, angel47girl, Wolf, NationalZombie, and xxxjetgirlxxx for your reviews on the last chapter. Hope you all enjoy this next one!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 7: Instigation<span>

The cold metal of the blade bit gently into the warm flesh of Catherine's cheek. Not enough to cut deeply, but enough to threaten. Fettel had pinned both of her hands above her head with one of his, gripping them tightly to ensure that she couldn't push him away. She was practically delirious at this point, having traversed the mind of another only to find herself stuck back in the corners of her own. Her head lolled from side to side weakly, putting up none of the fight that she had shown before. By now she was of half a mind to just let the man get what he wanted so she could leave this hellish limbo.

These thoughts left her mind as the knife slowly sliced through her cheek, drifting through the top layer of skin and tracing from the corner of her lip up the contour of her cheekbone. Fettel lazily brought the edge of the blade to his lips, cleaning it of the blood that stained its edge. Catherine tried shifting underneath him, hissing through her teeth as her movement opened the wound further. Fettel made a soft tsking noise, as if he was chiding her for her feeble attempt at escape.

"She would do well to just stay in one place," Fettel thought to himself.

It would certainly make his job a lot easier. Mentally shrugging, he decided to scrutinize the girl underneath him a little more thoroughly. He wanted to make sure he didn't push her too far, but he wanted to see how far he could get until she hit close to her breaking point. Only then could he fully concentrate on his plan. It wouldn't hurt to obtain some more information while he was at it.

She was breathing heavily underneath him, every intake of air seeming to cause fatigue. Blood stained her once white tank and the skin around her face and neck; whose blood it was exactly wasn't quite clear. Her eyes were lidded and dull now, the fatigue of her experience beginning to take a hold of her senses. He knew that she wasn't all gone yet though. There was still a ways that he could push her.

Close physical proximity seemed to do the trick, so he brought his head down on level with the crimson line stretching across the girl's cheek and dragged his tongue along it at a pace that was far too slow to be purely utilitarian in nature. Fettel then lowered himself slightly, transferring some of his weight onto the woman's hips, mimicking the pose that she had taken up earlier. This was a purely strategic move, he told himself. This way he could put more focus on retrieving information and spend less time worrying about whether or not the girl would try to get away again. That, and he knew the action would put her on edge.

Catherine flushed and closed her eyes as he did this, a loud string of curses winding its way through her head. Why on earth was he doing this?

"Oh, right. Because he's a sadistic prick of a man who knows that this kind of contact flusters the hell out of me. Well... maybe two can play at this game."

Catherine was loathe to sink to this level, but she was all out of options. Gritting her teeth and steeling herself, she lifted her hips and ground them roughly against the crotch of Fettel's pants, hoping that this last ditch effort would give him pause.

She was not prepared for what happened next. She had expected for there to be some kind of break in the man's actions; whether it would be from him scoffing at her attempt or at least being a bit surprised. But by no means was she expecting him to repeat the action in turn, with more fervor than she had shown. He didn't even stop lapping up the blood from her face. The aforementioned face felt like it was on fire by now, and she couldn't deny that his actions were throwing her.

Was this just another tactic, or was she honestly making him feel like that? She had to admit that the man was physically attractive, disregarding everything else that had transpired between them. Mentally slapping herself (Stockholm Syndrome, she thought disgustedly) she once again focused on the task at hand.

She bucked up once more, with possibly a bit more violence than was necessary, this time ready to meet his gaze and analyze how her tactic was working. Fettel had lifted his head slightly from her cheek, only stopping to let out a low shuddering groan that was barely audible. The only reason Catherine noticed was because she felt the tremor radiate through his body against hers; that and a small gust of cool air ghosted over the wound on her face. His eyes were lidded at this point, but she wasn't fooled. He was still watching her like a hawk.

A rather hungry one, at that.

This feigned intimacy was just a game; just a way to see who would cave to the will of the other first, a game to buy precious time.

"Time for what, though?" Catherine thought, stifling a moan as Fettel gently bit down on the torn corner of her lip while grinding his hips forcefully down onto hers, relishing the way she feverishly pushed right back. It was a struggle for dominance, and he loved every minute of this new challenge. He wasn't even trying to hide his arousal at this point; he knew it was just another way he could further unbalance the girl.

Fettel slid the knife back into its sheath on his leg and brought his hand up into her hair, gripping it firmly and tugging her head back to expose her neck. He gazed at the wound on her shoulder; he had been hoping to gain some more information. So far all he had been able to glean from the blurred part of her mind was that she had gone to an elementary school somewhere in Fairport.

That in and of itself was unremarkable; and she had basically told him as much. But considering that she had been able to get inside his head... That definitely pointed to Armacham involvement, especially seeing as her father had worked with the company. But it was getting a little hard for him to concentrate; he was positive the woman knew exactly what she was doing by tempting him like this.

He was good; better than good at reigning in his baser instincts, but he was still undoubtedly male. While he was admittedly impressed by the girl's tenacity and even a bit intrigued, he didn't want this little battle for power to take a turn into something entirely different.

With that, he released his grip on Catherine's hair and hoisted her up by her wrists, making sure to keep one hand pressed firmly on her throat as a warning. In one fluid motion he had her sprawled out on the sheetless bed, and quickly set about tying her limbs to the metal posts with the strips of the bedding as she feebly tried to grasp what was going on.

Too tired now to resist much at all, Catherine could only look on in horror as she was rendered immobile by the man's skilled knotwork. She was now quite completely at his mercy. Fettel looked in the girl's eyes and was satisfied to see that most of the stubborn fire had left them and had been replaced by a frenzied, panic-stricken sheen. Immediately, he recognized why there was such a sudden change in her demeanor.

He wouldn't take anything from her in that regard; he wasn't a complete barbarian. But if the panic kept her relatively obedient he wouldn't let that piece of information slip just yet. After all, he was weakened right now as well; what with his real form being in a telesthetic limiter a thousand miles away and his corporeal one rather damaged at the moment.

He hated resorting to such crude methods as fabric bindings and the mere threat of physical pain, but desperate times called for desperate measures and the girl wasn't intimidated into compliance by his mere psychic presence anymore. He would take advantage of any edge he had at this point.

"Wh... What're you planning?" A strangled voice that was barely her own clawed its way out of the girl's throat. She now regretted playing with a fire that would surely take every opportunity to burn her.

"Well now, let's see..." The man drawled lowly, sarcasm dripping from every word, "Since you've gone and made things difficult for me on multiple occasions I thought that in the interest of time it would be better just to keep you _tied up_ for the remainder of my stay, if you'll excuse the pun."

He then reached over to her mouth and gagged her with another piece of the ripped sheets. "Wouldn't want you biting back this time, hmm?" he said, grinning darkly. The fire behind his eyes glinted dangerously, hinting at an unspoken promise to cause pain.

Catherine only glared weakly at him, her eyes glazed over with exhaustion and fear. Only an angry murmur made its way out of the gag; Fettel assumed it was some sort of derogatory statement directed towards him. If that was the worst she could manage at this point then he now considered any potential threat from her to be neutralized.

He leaned over her, ignoring the muffled protests coming from behind the piece of cloth, and made another nick with his knife on underside the woman's left forearm. She cringed and pulled away slightly, but no other action was taken.

No other action _could_ be taken. He had made sure of that.

Fettel knelt down beside the bed and brought his lips onto the deep wound, and was swept away into a rush of memory.

This time there would be no interruptions. He would find what he needed; what he already felt was there. She would find him then, and soon she would set him free.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And there we have it. :) Sorry not a lot happened plot-wise in this installment; it's kind of a bridge-type chapter. A lot will be revealed in the next one though, as Paxton gets into the wiped parts of Catherine's mind. Thanks for reading!**


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